iHave Anxiey
by perFANfection
Summary: As Sam becomes moody and distant, she begins to shut out everyone and everything. She begins having trouble coming to terms with her new emotions and feels frustrated as if no one will understand. Can Carly be here for her or will Sam fall flat on her face? (Based on real experiences and feelings in effort to reach out.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note on Anxiety :** Anxiety (Both general and Social) and Depression is a legit mental disorder that affects people's ability to interact with others and in life. I wrote this story with my experiences specifically in mind to share in order to hopefully reach out to others that may feel the same way. I decided that Sam would be perfect because she is the type of person that symbolizes anxiety. Sam is usually an outgoing, and tough girl who feels like sharing her emotions would be too embarrassing. People with anxiety or depression feel as though they should mask their emotions. But writing my experiences into a story plot for Sam to actually live out has helped me talk about it in an anonymous way and hopefully find others who feel the same or have had similar experiences. Please know that it does get better, but you first must reach you're lowest point before you can build back up again. Those feelings aren't as permanent as they feel and feel free to leave a review/PM on suggestions or your own experiences because I would love to connect with others that share the same feelings. And thank you if you took the time to read this and know that you are appreciated and loved by someone very much! So please find that one person to share your feelings with!

* * *

Looking around the empty halls of her new school, except for a few students wandering on their way to the bathroom, Sam sees kids looking curiously out the door of their classrooms as Sam and her mom walk by on their way to the office her first day of school. Sam feels her clammy hand reach for her mother's, and though her mother was not the nurturing type, she gave it a squeeze and smiled mischievously at the small blonde. Sam was beginning second grade in a new school.

"Sammy, this is your first day of school. Don't screw it up." She warns.

"You already set the bar pretty low for us Puckett's, mom. No chance."

"Be good, Samantha." She sharply reminded her as she let go of Sam's hand, leaving her in the chairs, swinging her feet back and forth as she anxiously waited for the office lady to print her schedule.

"First day here, huh?" She looks at Sam and smiles.

"It would seem so, wouldn't it?" She replies smartly, shaking her head at the lame attempt at small talk.

"You're gonna have lots of new friends! Aren't you excited?"

"I'm excited to leave." Sam mumbles and the lady frowns.

She hands Sam her schedule, still warm from the printer, and smiles.

"I hope I can see you again sometime so I can ask you how it's going!" She says cheerily.

"Don't worry, i'll be back." Sam smirks as she leaves.

 **XXX**

The Sunday afternoon before her first day of Junior year started, Sam had laid particularly unmotivated in her bed, replaying anxious thoughts in her head as she shut out the rest of the world for the moment.

 _"I can't do this! I can't explain something that I don't even really understand!"_

Sam lies in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with the feeling of hopelessness hovering over her. She notices her phone light up by her bedside, and can see that Carly has now texted her for the fifth time today.

 _"Do I really want to keep faking this? She's my best friend. No, she'll make too big of a deal out of this! She'll send me to therapy! I can't talk to another pusher."_

Sam grabs her phone anyway and unlocks her screen.

 **"Sam? Why haven't you been answering? Are you okay, i've been really worried!"** It reads.

Sam groans, feeling like talking couldn't do a thing. How could she? If she didn't even understand her feelings herself then how would she explain it to Carly. Surely, Carly was good at comforting her friend and would know what to say. But would it make Sam feel better? Sam felt the tears sting the back of her eyes in frustration, then she grumbled as she sat up and pulled on her shoes.

 **"Be over in a sec."** She quickly replied.

Sam took a deep breath, holding it as she felt it circulate, then breathed out heavily. She shuffled to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water against her face and into her red eyes, and noted the bags around them from lack of sleep during the nights.

Minutes later Sam furiously pounded against the front door.

"Carly? Can you get that before she breaks the chain again? I can't afford to pay for that again!" Spencer calls from inside the bathroom.

Carly rolls her eyes in humor and opens the door. Sam, like a zombie, trudges into the front door and plops herself onto the couch, on the opposite end from Freddie.

"Oh my gosh Sam! You look awful! Where have you been?"

"I'm okay Carls! I've been at the meat festival all day!" She lies defensively, faking a small smile of annoyance.

"Aw Sam! You know I wanted to take you!" Carly jokes as she sits between the two and grabs the remote from off the table.

"Channel 32 alright?"

"Yes!" Freddie agrees.

"No!" Sam shoots Carly a look.

Carly clicks it anyway and she and Freddie fix their attention to the tv. Sam stares around, feeling that sad and sick feeling build up in her. She needs an excuse to leave, to pace around until she feels calm.

"I'm gonna go get a snack!" Sam chokes out as she stands up from the couch.

Sam hurriedly leaves the room and begins walking toward the kitchen when she briskly turns in the other direction, heading toward the bathroom instead. She quietly closes and locks the door and the hum of the fan from Spencer before drowns out her sudden and heavy sobs as she sits on her knees, dropping to the floor.

 _"What's the matter with me? Why do I suddenly feel so much loss of control?"_ She wondered to herself.

Sam scooted toward the toilet and lifted the seat, then gripped the lid as she hurled over the bowl. She tried and tried again to throw up, but could not successfully throw anything up out of her grumbling stomach. Nothing but butterflies. Her sadness had once again made her feel nausea, an overwhelming and confusing feeling.

"Uhn." Sam groaned as she scooted against the door.

Sam reached over to the counter and pulled a hand mirror off the counter. The first thing she noticed was that her face was pale and her eyes red, and the face of someone who was once her stared back. But Sam knew this girl she was seeing now wasn't her. And maybe it was the fact that she hadn't eaten because she was feeling anxious, but the small blonde noted that her face looked thinner.

"Sam? Are you in there?" Carly calls concerned from outside the door.

"Uh, just a minute! I'm uh, pooping." Sam mutters, cringing at her lie.

"Um.. okay! Didn't need to know that! Just making sure you're okay!"

"Yup! Everything's coming out alright!" She calls.

"Okay…" She hears Carly mutter awkwardly as her footsteps back away from the door and down the hall.

Sam sighs relieved and gets up from the floor, taking a deep breath as she tries to recollect herself.

 _"I can't go out like this! She'll know something's up!"_ Sam tells herself.

Sam flushes her face with cool water and wipes it on the towel hanging beside the sink. Then she unlocks the door, peering out into the hall. Carly was back in the living room where they were back to watching the tech channel, Freddie staring excitedly at the TV as Carly sat with her face in her hands, groaning at the every word of the narrator.

"Hey Sam! You're missing a great special on lighting!" Freddie motions her to the couch.

"Not now Fredward!" Sam moans as she plops next to Carly.

"Someone's extra feisty today!" Carly teases.

"Not today." Sam grumbles quietly, while she was really thinking ' _She doesn't understand'._

Soon the show is over and Carly once again returns to the tv guide in search for a show they all agree on.

"How about Simon's prom date?" Carly suggests.

"What's that?" Freddie asks.

"Dude, it's self explanatory." Sam replies snarkily.

"Hey, shh… it's on!" Carly interrupts the two.

Sam watches intently, trying to get her mind off all of her racing thoughts, but soon dazes off, trying to distract herself from crying by looking away. Carly soon notices that Sam isn't watching and pokes her shoulder.

"Sam? Don't you like this movie?"

"Uh, i'm just not in the mood."

"You haven't been in the mood lately for anything. What's the matter with you?" She asks, unaware that something was actually seriously dragging Sam down.

"Uh, nothing. Just tired."

"C'mon Sam! You sleep like a bunny!" Carly laughs.

"I'm okay." Sam says bluntly through her teeth, still not looking at the concerned brunette.

"Sam, i'm here for you. You can tell me anything!"

"How can I tell you about something if I don't even understand!" Sam explodes, frustrated by her friends questions.

Sam immediately feels sorry for yelling and sinks her head between her legs, sobbing quietly.

"Sam," Carly puts a comforting hand on Sam's back, rubbing it in soothing circles around her.

"Carly, I feel sad for no reason, I don't want to eat and I feel helpless! I have episodes of crying I don't even understand."

"It's normal to feel sad sometimes! You don't always have to be the 'tough' girl." Carly assures her.

"Yeah, but not like this! I just can't explain! I suddenly just feel panicky, or sad! It'll start with me feeling dizzy, then as soon as I cry, it's like… I don't know, not me! It's just like… darkness."

"You should see someone!"

"Why would I want to talk to someone who is there just as an occupation?"

"They get this job because they want to help people."

Sam sits up and leans sideways, pushing her forehead into Carly's shoulder, then stands, sighing frustrated through her tears.

"I need to go." She sniffs, wiping her tears as she brushes off her feelings.

"Sam, wait!" Carly calls, but Sam only slams the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam knew keeping her feelings bottled up was something she always did whenever she developed new feelings she couldn't quite pinpoint. And it always bothered her not being able to explain herself because most of the time, Sam was a straight forward, 'tell it like it is' kind of person. She didn't like not being able to express herself, and the only way she knew how was violence.

Punching walls, Freddie, biting things, it was all familiar ground when it came to that, but was an uncharted territory, having someone to talk to, if they only came up to her first and asked, and pushing to know even after she's denied it, because they can read her like no one else. And that's how she hoped it would happen with Carly, all her feelings pouring out and Carly nodding and telling her she gets it. She feels the same way. But it seemed as if that would never happen.

After a rough school year, summer seemed like the perfect escape from the stressors that were bringing on only a few of her feelings. Ever since March, when her anxiety, though she didn't know what it was called, first started to surface, she had been trying to keep it to herself, bottling up her feelings as if no one would really understand. But after being introduced to the school psychologist, Mrs. MacSweeney, she found comfort in knowing someone was there to listen and actually cared, rather than all the guy therapists who had seen her only for her mom.

On a particularly harder day, when Sam felt like she couldn't keep it together, Sam had thought of going to the library office where Mrs. MacSweeny resided. But the thought of having to pass through the library to get to her office made Sam reluctant to go, but she did.

As she slowly passes the library, she glares inside of the small rectangular window to see inside. A light is on, and the door is half open, signaling that there's still someone here. Sam sighs, exhaling heavily as she approaches the door cautiously, grabbing the metal handle and staring inside.

Her palms were clammy, but felt cold from the cool metal handle of the library door. She took a deep breath, moving the handle down and pushing open the door, wincing at the loud sound of the door creaking open.

Sam looked down as she walked in, avoiding any possible stares or attention walking in would give her, but when she looked up and glanced around, she noticed most of the kids had their head buried deep into their books or there homework, and others were having quiet conversations with each other. Except for a few kids who glanced up from their work, most did not acknowledge Sam entering the library. She sighed a breath of relief.

She fixed her attention straight ahead, approaching the door of the psychologist's office. Sam lightly knocked three brief times, then saw the small, dark haired lady look up from her computer, and Sam lit up, knowing that she was in fact, there.

"Hey Sam!" Mrs. MacSweeney exclaimed in the same, cheerful voice she was always greeted with.

Sam walked in and stood in front of Mrs. McSweeney's desk, waiting quietly in hopes that she'd ask 'what's up?' and motion her to sit. And she did, making Sam feel somewhat more secure.

Sam played with her hands, cupping them together and giving them a squeeze, repeating the motion various times, and in different ways, before looking back up, and noticing the sweet and petite lady watching. Sam cleared her throat anxiously, and sought for the right words to say. ' _Courage Sam, have courage.'_ She would tell herself, reminding her of the words her mother once said when walking her through a dark neighborhood on one frigid winter evening, at a mere seven years old.

Sam vividly remembered the frosty air and nippy winds, and she struggled to keep her hood over her head as her mother pulled her through the streets, teaching her how to be strong, even in the face of fear. At the earliest hours of that morning, she watched snow swirl in the street lights, causing her to feel like she was in a snowglobe, rather than the creepy neighborhood. And she remembered every word of her mom's message.

After that night, when her mother went back to being herself, Sam remembered how to have courage, and ever since had felt like she's been off on her own. Comedy and toughness was her scapegoat. It made her feel like she was less weak and more like someone else. That was the way she was raised and has always been; Independent.

It was then, very unlike herself, when she let the tears streak her face, running down in a stream, rather than rolling drops, dripping one at a time. She looked down, hiding her face in shame and embarrassment, but it was only comfort she seeked, not advice. The blonde had hoped with all her heart that Mrs. M would tell her that she was perfectly normal. That it was okay to cry or some other cliche. But it was advice that the young teacher would give her, and words of encouragement.

"Do you know what I think?" She had asked.

Sam looked away, unable to answer.

"I think it takes one heck of a person to do what you do. To be able to get up and still come to school, even after what you go through. That's huge for you! I think you don't give yourself enough credit. What you do, or did, is showing that you have what it takes to not let your worries or anxiety rule your life. Basically when you made the choice to get up and face life, you said 'Forget you!'. And that shows that you're tougher than you give yourself credit for." She consoles her.

Sam blushes, feeling somewhat better, but not perfectly okay. But she knew that if she let anxiety rule her life, even though it felt out of control, that it couldn't get better. But it was not in her hands to control or change. She needed to give it up. Positive thinking and prayers is what she needed. It was in God's hands now, and even though she hadn't heard from her mother in a while, she still knew it to be true.

Sam left with a new hop in her step, and though she knew she still felt as though she was being dragged down, Mrs. MacSweeney was exactly who she needed to see that day.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam?! Are you ready to leave now?" Carly called from below the staircase.

Sam flew down the stairs, dragging her heavy suitcase from behind, the wheels losing balancing as they were jerked down the stairs, the suitcase losing balance and tilting sideways. Sam nearly trips on the last step, Carly reaching out to grab the frazzled girl as she catches herself on the railing.

"I think i've got everything." Sam notes, patting the suitcase.

"Everything? Are you sure?" Carly laughs jokingly.

"She probably has ten pounds of bacon in there, and one pair of underwear." Freddie teases before being kicked in the shin by Sam's boots.

The three load everything into the trunk of Spencer's car, and Carly and Sam squeeze in the back, Freddie taking shotgun next to Spencer. Sam and Carly don't talk much, but Sam feels a sudden urge, creeping her hands to her head, running her fingers through her hair before swirling a few strands around her fingers, inspecting the ends.

Out of sudden, mindless curiosity, Sam pulls the hair from her scalp, inspecting the strand before tossing it onto the floor. Relief is short lived, as Sam reaches again to relieve the tension, only finding herself to want to do it again, wincing every time she pulled hair from a specific spot on her head.

"Sam, stop that!" Carly looks over, noticing the strands of hair still in her fingers.

"Sorry." Sam mumbles annoyed.

Mindlessly, Sam's fingers weave themselves back into her scalp, her hands drawn to a specific spot on her head as she subconsciously knew she was doing it, yet could not bring herself to stop, before Carly grabbed her wrist, pulling it back down into her lap before releasing it.

"Sam." Carly firmly repeats.

"What?!" She snaps again.

"If it hurts, why do you keep doing it?" She asks in concern.

Sam shrugs, looking away in shame. Pulling her hair wasn't exactly a new thing, but she didn't know exactly when it started. Last night while spending the night in Carly's room, Sam had sat up for over an hour before becoming horrified at the amount of hair actually clumped in the creases of the couch. Shamefully, she regretted every second of it as she scooped the long strands of blonde hair into a ball, and walked over to toss it in the trash, vowing that an episode like this wouldn't happen again.

Sam bit her lip, in disbelief of what she had done as she drew back her tears. But as the urge returned, Sam compulsively reached for a strand again, forgetting her promise to herself as she bit the inside of her cheek, feeling around her head for the right hair before pulling, only to become frustrated over the fact that she had done it again, beating herself up over her broken promise. And in the car, she had felt the same rush of emotions being eased temporarily by the tug of her hair from her scalp, but never permanently satisfying her.

Spencer pulls through the drive-through of the nearest restaurant to their motel, in order to be able to stay in and eat for the night, rather than paying for hotel food or even room service.

"Well, this looks a little nicer than the motel we stayed at when we visited the Dingo guys." Freddie observes upon walking into the room.

"Yeah, well now we know who NOT to ask for hotel advice." Carly smirks, gesturing to Sam.

"Yeah, I would give this place a solid four." Sam agrees.

"On what scale?!" Spencer sarcastically snaps, shocked by the high rating being given.

Sam and Carly throw their things on one bed, Spencer and Freddie on another. The group was exhausted from their six hour car ride, and was dreading the eight more they still had to go before reaching California.

Sam rolls over, feeling a wave of nausea of her body, overwhelming her to the point of tears, and sits up, trying to deep breath before she gets a head rush. She glances over at the clock. 'Two in the morning?' Sam thinks in shock.

Sam stands up, feeling more dizzy and confused, stumbling into the bathroom before closing the door behind her and hurling over the toilet, nothing but dry heaving. Frustrated, she throws herself down the door, sitting against it as she brings her face to her knees. As tears stream down her face, she tries to reason through it, and feeling a little better now that she had released some of the tension.

Over an hour, Sam curls herself into the bathtub, folding a towel beneath her head, and closing the curtain, too lazy to re-open it to shut the light off, and she shakes against the tub, the cool plastic feel of it against her warm, angry body. She closes her eyes, clenching her teeth as she furiously sobs, feeling helpless as she lay on the tub floor.

"Sam?" Carly calls, flickering the light in the bathroom.

Startled, Sam looks up at Carly, squinting her eyes to find the confused and overly concerned brunette staring down at her. Carly reaches down, helping her out of the cramped tub, standing her on her feet and assisting her out of the high tub wall.

"Sam, what's the matter?" Carly asks, wrapping her friend in a hug.

Sam's face turns bright red as she fights the tears, unable to explain in words how she felt, even to one of the most understanding of friends, but she also knew she would die if Freddie or Spencer saw her like this. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks red and tear stained, as her hair stuck to her face from the snot and tears.

Sam falls limp into Carly's arms, allowing her to comfort her as she cried, mumbling the same words over and over in a non-sensible way.

"Calm down; Deep breaths." Carly repeated, showing her how.

When Sam regained her speech, she darted her eyes from Carly's stare, shuffling her feet on the floor as she musters up the courage to speak for herself.

"I don't know how to explain it." She finally answers honestly, wiping the tears.

"It's gonna be okay, whatever it is, I promise." Carly consoles her.

Sam feels only some comfort from her friend's hold, but definitely more than she would with her own mother. She shakes in her arms, not wanting to let go, but also thinking she was weak for wanting to.

"Carls, this makes me weak, doesn't it?"

Carly shares a small laugh, shaking her head at the blonde, as she smiles.

"Absolutely not! This is nothing to be embarrassed about! Anxiety is more common than you think, and it seems as though people with anxiety are the strongest of us all. They can hold things inside them for months before having the courage to talk to anyone, and that takes a whole lot of strength." She reassures her.

Sam weakly smiles, wiping her face on her sleeve, and Carly runs a washcloth under cool water before handing it to Sam.

"I'll tell Freddie and Spencer you ordered too much to eat last night or something." Carly winks as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

* * *

 **XXX**

"You okay kid?" Spencer asks Sam as he glances up in the rearview mirror.

"I'm fine." She replies shortly.

Sam leans over, resting her head on Carly rather than the cool car window, and buries her head into Carly's shoulder, fighting back the nausea. Sam had told the guys she caught a stomach bug, which she herself believed was starting to seem true. She bit her cheeks, and Carly reached her hand over, feeling the instant warmth of Sam's forehead against her hand.

"Sam, I think you really are getting sick." Carly whispers as Sam groans.

"Spencer, can you pull over?" Sam moans suddenly.

"On the freeway?" He asks in disbelief.

"Pull over now, please!" She snaps and Spencer responds in fear of throw-up all over the back seat of his car.

Almost instantly the car door flies open and Sam leans over, luckily on the ride side, away from all the traffic, but instead, dry heaving on the side of the road. She pukes, feeling the bitter taste in her mouth as she finishes, beginning to wipe the substance from her mouth while Carly rubs circles on her back with one hand, while holding her hair with her other.

"Here." Carly shoves her water bottle toward Sam's hand, and she gratefully takes it.

Carly was afraid for her friend being sick, the vacation they were taking becoming a bummer for the young teen. Sam rummages through her bag, finding her medicine her psychiatrist had prescribed, remembering she had forgotten to take it, and realized that the side effects may have contributed to her becoming overwhelmed and in result, throwing up on the side of the road.

"Carls, can I have your water?" Sam asks, grabbing for it again.

"What's that?" Carly asks as Sam pops the oblong pill in her mouth.

"Freddie's giving me a headache." She responds, her voice muffled.

Carly knew exactly what they really were for, knowing that Sam didn't want to have to explain it in front of the others about her "Happy Pills".

"What have I said in the last hour to annoy you?" Freddie defends.

"What have you said in the last twelve hours that hasn't made me want to hit you?" She retorts before laying across Carly's lap and tucking her seat belt under her armpit to keep it off her neck.

Sam knew that taking the medicine as soon as she remembered wouldn't really have immediate effects, but it was better than not taking it all together. She had been taking it long enough for it to be in her system, even after missing a day, but she still didn't feel as though the meds did much to help. She remembers the first few days after beginning them, and the panic attack that had come with it after telling Carly what they were for, just months after her episode in Spencer's bathroom.

She had woken up, a sharp pain above her shoulder blade and in her chest, not really aching, but more of a solid sharp pain, and as she stood up to go to the bathroom, upon standing she felt dizzy, and stumbled to the bathroom, feeling as though she couldn't balance, and was about to pass out. She vividly remembers fully convincing herself that she was dying of a heart attack.

She sat on the toilet, trying to regain her train of thought, confused to why she felt so sick suddenly, and it was then, when she felt too weak and tired to make it back, just wanting to collapse on the bathroom tile, that she called for Carly out of pure panic.

"Carls?" She cried, fear in her voice.

Carly came, only to find that Sam was laying against the tub, tears streaming down her fearful face. She had felt like she was over-reacting, but in the short time since she had gotten up, she had convinced herself that she was having a heart attack, the pain in her shoulder blade scaring her more than the panic attack itself.

"Sam? What's wrong?" She sleepily wanders in, kneeling beside her friend.

"My chest hurts right over my shoulder blade. What if I'm having a heart attack?" She sobs.

"Sam, you're in great health! There's nothing obviously wrong." She pulls Sam into a hug.

"Convince me! I've eaten five pound of fried food in the last week! Remind me again about what great health I'm in!" Sam sobs, unwillingly sarcastic.

Carly ignores the snarky response, realizing the emotion her friend felt, and brushed it off, allowing Sam to cope in her own ways.

"Sam, you're okay; I promise you're okay!" Carly repeats soothingly.

The girls sit in silence, Carly trying to console Sam while also convincing her that she was okay. Carly kneeled down and wrapped her arms around Sam, allowing to Sam to sit still quietly, as she waited out her anxiety attack, distantly spacing out at seemingly nothing.

"Carls?" She finally mutters, slightly able to feel relaxed.

"Sam, I think it's time you talk to someone more professional than just some guy your mom is dating." Carly implies and Sam doesn't argue, but reluctantly nods her head.

Carly helps Sam to her feet, walking her back to her room and allowing the blonde to fall asleep in her bed, and though Sam sought more rest, she lay awake, staring blankly into nowhere, and only pretending to be sleeping when Carly came back as not to worry her.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam bitterly crosses one arm over her other in her lap, tapping the fingers of her left hand on her right right arm beneath it. She's seated next to Carly who sits with her hand folded in her lap, acting like it's a professional meeting, rather than just an initial consultation.

Sam pulls at her hair with her free hand, twisting the locks around her fingers, weaving it between them then slowly pulls her fingers through until she reaches the ends, staring and picking through the split ends, looking for a broken piece to slowly tear apart, watching as the hair split into two, and floated to the floor.

"Sam, stop that!" Carly whispered the warning.

"This is stupid, Carly! Why are we even here?"

"You need the help learning to deal with your emotions!"

"Isn't that what eating is for? Think of all the lonely singles eating on their couch right now." She smirks, finding it amusing.

"Sam, please cooperate today! I only want to help you." Carly begs.

Three light knocks echo on the wooden door as it slowly opens, and an older looking man walks through, the weight of the heavy load of his stomach making the floor shake beneath his husky feet. He carried a clipboard underneath his right arm, and a black pen and highlighter in his left. Slowly, he wheels out his table and chair, setting his clipboard and pen down, and opening the silver laptop that sat upon it. As he lowers his glasses with the small rectangular frames onto his nose, he clicks his pen and stares up at Sam.

He runs through protocol, asking if Sam had a history of violence or self-harm, scratching at his beard with his free hand as he recorded her answers. Sam glared at Carly nervously, without even trying to show it every time a question was asked, looking to Carly for assurance before answering.

"Why, do you have a prison record?" Sam blurts as he quietly types on his computer.

"Sam!" Carly snaps.

"If he gets to ask me questions about my personal life, I have every right to do the same." Sam defends.

"Ms. Puckett, I don't have to disclose that to you." He responds calmly, never looking up.

"Well, my mom has taken me to a lot of sleazy counselors and therapists before so it would be nice to know a little background now before my mom trusts you enough to give you our house key and you take off with our fridge or tv."

Carly nudges Sam with her leg and reaches over, pinching the skin on her forearm and burning her a look.

"Sam, he has a degree on the wall! A legit one!"

"That's what they all tell me." Sam brushes it off.

"I'm sorry, she not too thrilled to be here, but we hope that through therapy, eventually Sam will be able to express her feels more properly." Carly adds apologetically.

"Sam, what scares you? Like for example, when you're anxious, how or what do you feel?"

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that? Don't you think that's why we're here and that's what we want to know?" She replies, snapping her gum in annoyance.

"So you don't want to be here?" He asks.

"No." She replies, irritated.

"On a scale to one to ten…" He begins.

Sam rolls her eyes, looking at Carly in annoyance, gesturing at her as if she couldn't believe this was happening.

"Carls, for real?" Sam looks at Carly in disbelief.

Realizing that this was going to be a long and difficult process, Sam unintentionally being too stubborn to admit she needed help or to even cooperate, Carly grabbed Sam off the couch, dragging her toward the door angrily, more out of frustration that Sam wouldn't accept the help she wanted. Sam needed more than just a friend, more than just a shoulder to cry on. She needed professional help to teach her how to deal with her emotions better than Carly ever could.

"Thanks Dr. Meyer." Carly calls as she drags Sam with her out the door.

Upon returning home, Carly collapses onto the couch next to her brother, laying her head on his lap as she glared up at him, deeply exhaling as she blew the frustrated and overwhelmed air from her hot cheeks.

"How's it going kiddo?" Spencer asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No such luck today." She sighed, sadly sitting up and leaning on his shoulder.

"What happened? Did she bite him?"

"No.."

"Kick him?" Spencer tries again.

"No." Carly replies annoyed.

"Any bodily or physical harm?" Spencer asks cautiously for reassurance.

"She wouldn't even talk to him! No matter what he asked her she always made it into some sarcastic comeback to avoid the question."

"It was that bad?"

"She asked him if he had a prison record!" She infers, looking at him in disbelief.

"Can you blame her for being paranoid?" Spencer asks.

"Spencer, I just want to help her! Tell me what I can do! She's my best friend and I feel totally useless to her, even though I just want to see her happy!" Carly whimpers concerned.

Spencer turns his body to face Carly, sighing with all seriousness in his eyes.

"Carls, you can't make her talk. It will probably take time to help her put her feelings out there, but right now and actually always has it been difficult for Sam to express her emotions in ways other than violence. So if she clams up, be patient. She'll eventually open up, especially if you give her or the therapists ways that they can communicate in Sam's way of understanding, on her level of communication."

"You mean like letting her punch somethings and such? Like every time she punches a pillow or something, she has to shout how she's feeling!" Carly excitedly exclaims.

"Kind of, but that's just a start. But if Sam doesn't even know how to explain it, you need to start off slow."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I'm not a therapist!" He adds incredulously and Carly laughs, leaning into him to hug him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey Carls, what'cha reading?" Freddie asks upon entering the studio.

"Well, I was hoping to help Sam by reading this book on her anxiety to better understand, but it feels like there's nothing useful."

" _Understanding Anxiety?_ "

"Yeah, it's chock full of just tips on what you could say to comfort someone without sounding too, I don't know! You know what I mean, right?"

"Like telling her what she's thinking? Telling her that there's no reason to be anxious?"

"You wouldn't tell her that because I'm sure she's not trying to be anxious!"

Freddie sighs as he pulls a beanbag up next to Carly, plopping into as he sinks down, staring over Carly's shoulder to see in more detail about what she was reading. He grew fascinated, never knowing that Sam was actually feeling weaker than what she was putting out, a hard shelled blonde with a soft center. He thought he could finally understand Sam's motives to be so rough, figuring he was her scapegoat.

"Wow, I never thought of it that way…" Freddie began.

"She's really uncomfortable with this, so just act like you normally would. She feels like a freak right now and I don't want her to feel anymore weird about this than she should. We want to let her know that we're here for her and that it's totally normal, but don't push her." Carly informs him, warning him at the last part.

"It's just upsetting that she acts like she's such a burden. I mean, she can be a pain, but never a burden." Carly adds.

"Yeah; What would I do without that blonde nuisance in my life?" Freddie agrees.

Sam popped in, sneaking behind them unsuspectingly, and grabbing Freddie by his shoulders, causing him to jump a mile high out of his bean bag in surprise, angrily turning around to find Sam laughing as his heart-pounded and the fear painted on his face slowly faded to relief.

"Sam!" He shouted annoyed.

"Gotcha Frednard." She replies amusingly satisfied with herself.

"Speaking of the devil," Carly smirks.

Sam slides a bean bag next to Carly on the left, furthest away from Freddie, and Carly slides the book on her right toward Freddie, afraid Sam would take offense, curiously wondering if she was really categorized that way in Carly's eyes. Sam takes out her gum, reaching over Carly to push the gooey piece of white spearmint behind Freddie's ear, and he wincing at the squishy blob, oozing as Sam's spit ran down his ear.

"Was that necessary?" Carly asks.

"Is he necessary? Why is he here?" Sam retorts.

Freddie sighs as he stands, sliding his bean bag across the wood floor as he drags it behind him, leaving as Carly points to the door, wanting to be alone with Sam. After the door closes, and Freddie's footsteps against the floor fade, Carly looks to Sam as she grabs a movie and puts it in.

"How about we just hang out like we used to." Carly suggests, and Sam stares at her suspiciously.

"Like how? Before or after Lance dumped you?" Sam smirks, and Carly jokingly acts upset.

"So, what have you been up to?" Carly changes the focus.

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Not if it's illegal or harmful." Carly infers.

Sam looks away, sighing heavily as she reaches into her backpack, pulling out a notebook and a blue pen, clicking it as she opened her notebook to its first page.

"Wanna know what's in here? Swear you'll never tell anyone, not even Freddie." Sam glares at Carly in all seriousness and Carly nods.

Inside, in handwriting that looked loopy, nicer than Sam's usual scribbled notes, a page of words, with mixes of curly and print letters in each word lined the page, some of the ink smeared, but beautiful written and still legible.

 _Day in the life of Samantha Puckett:_

 _Day 1: Trying to understand:_

Sam cringes as she watched Carly reading the page, sweating on her upper lip as she fears judgement for the corniness of the title, but rather Carly keeps reading, her eyes buried in the note.

' _The earth shakes beneath my feet as I steady them on the floor in front of my bed, the soft carpet weaving itself between my toes. Hesitant to the remaining covers on my bed off my lap and throw them aside, I feel almost ready to face the day as my blanket falls to the floor and my breathing becoming slower and more calm. Upon waking up, anxiety shadowed over me like a large and dark cloud, the feeling of crying choking me, causing my focus to shift to the bad right away, giving my happiness not the slightest chance of reappearing. But as it returns, and the cloud slowly moves away, the floor looking so far away as I stare down at it, hoping to get my thoughts as lost as the fibers in the carpet...'_

"Carls…" Sam begins, but is quickly shushed.

"Sam, who knew that you were gifted?" Carly insists proudly.

"It's definitely not from my mother." Sam mutters before being shushed again.

' _My reflection stares back at me, copying my every grimace, my every smirk, and even the little thing I do with my tongue on the corner of my bottom lip when I'm thinking about something important, or trying to make a mental decision. Today's dilemma: Sheltering my feelings from my friends, unable to stand to see the hurt that I feel conflicted on them from pushing them away, but my feelings control me and the frustration of never knowing how to help me causes strains in our communication._

 _It's comforting to know that Freddie is there everyday, and despite us teasing each other and picking at each other's flaws, at the end of the day we realize that neither of us are perfect and we all have our own baggage that we carry, concealing the contents from others, fearing that others will judge you by what you're carrying around._

 _But the truth is that no matter how hard we try to hide it, it becomes apparent overtime that the baggage really only does you no good, weighing you down, and eventually the weight of it becomes too much, and it breaks under the weight, the contents falling out, and that's when after so long, it all comes out, and you find that you need someone to help you pick up the pieces, and put them back where they belong._

 _That's what friends do; They dig and dig trying to help you piece things back together and put them back how they belong, without even judging you for carrying such strange things around in the first place. They care enough to actually push you, trying to find the key to get you to open your deepest secrets.'_

Carly glares up at Sam, her throat dry as she struggles to even find words appropriate to the emotions and feelings that were strung together in a beautifully written piece Carly never knew that Sam was capable of writing. Upon finishing, Carly reached over, hugging Sam as she sighed relieved, realizing the change she had to make to help better understand Sam, not based on what some books say or said, but to listen to Sam's true feelings.

"Tell Freddie or anybody and you'll be very confused when you wake up tomorrow." Sam warns Carly jokingly.

"Okay, okay." Carly laughs, releasing Sam from her hug and closing the notebook, sliding it back over to her.

 **XXX**

It was a huge moment for Sam who until that moment, was afraid of even planting her two feet anywhere near the school cafeteria after two unthinkable years since she last set foot inside of it, a long time since what she referred to as, 'The Incident' or 'It that shall not be named'. Though Carly had tried to convince Sam from that day that even she vaguely remembered it and so did probably everyone who witnessed, Sam couldn't shake the feeling of something going wrong again and the memory come flooding back, thus avoiding the school lunchroom.

Carly patiently waited in her own for Sam to explain what was making the memory of the incident an emphasis on her fears of the cafeteria, but it never came and Carly would drag her lunch from her locker all the way to the other end of the school to a secluded hallway, promising to sit with Sam in the quiet and small exit space since discovering her mysterious disappearance from the cafeteria after the incident.

But as he fears controlled her and spiraled, the need and want of getting a handle on the fear was becoming necessary and Carly constantly emphasised it. But on her own a sudden compulsion to go burst, and the bottled up fear shriveled as Sam stepped one foot in front of the other, scooping up her things from the hall and shuffling hesitantly to the lunchroom. No one seemed to bat an eyelash at the arrival of the short and shaky blonde entering the room, everyone lost in their conversations and lunches, trying to eat as much as they could while making talk between bites before the half an hour break was over.

Would she stay or would she run from her fears, as she slowly came to the realization that not only she'd have to step foot inside of the room, but also sought for a place to sit, scanning familiar faces to pick out of the large sea of students.

Her left foot stepped out in front of her other, preparing to take the next step when Sam's boot squeaked on the polished tile linoleum and she cringed, her heart starting to race as she felt her face burn and a her thoughts began racing, expecting a few faces to turn around. Without thinking, Sam took a small half step back before fully turning around, making a dash down the hall, searching out her once again safe escape from her cruel mind twisting reality, and irrelevant scenarios pounded in her head of what could happen.

A full step in, a half step back, and a mad dash for her shelter, shielding her fears from harsh reality, the reality of her mind playing unrealistic scenarios in her head, the truth being that none of which she feared had actually happened.

 **XXX**

It lay open on Carly's bed as Sam tapped the metal part housing the eraser on her pencil against her lip, the indents of bite marks Sam had angrily imprinted in it feeling strange against her skin. She stared blankly at the empty page before her, not an opening or idea, not a title in mind, just eraser marks darkening the blank spaces and fading some of the blue lines on the page. She continued to tap the pencil against her lip and on the fingertips of her left hand as she pondered her mind, longing for her feels to just spill.

"Hey Sam." Freddie called upon entering Carly's room and Sam snapped the front cover of her notebook shut, then sliding it beneath a pillow, avoiding Freddie's questioning stare.

"What was…" Freddie began to stutter.

"Mind your business." Sam snapped, rolling forward off her butt, sitting on her knees as she made room for Freddie.

"Where's Carly?" He asks as he plops beside her.

"She's bringing us back smoothies." She shortly informs him.

They sit together, awkwardly blowing air from their puffed out cheeks, as Freddie searches his mind to say what was really weighing in his heart, his unchanged feelings of resentment toward her from years of verbal abuse, but the soft spot he had he felt growing, confusing how he truly felt for her. His feelings of 'like, liking' her were returning but he knew it would only hurt worse if these feelings were only arrossed by his sympathy toward her new anxious personality.

"Sam, how do you feel when you're anxious?" He suddenly mumbles.

"Huh?" Sam asks, taken by surprise.

"Anxiety; What makes you, I don't know, afraid?"

"Why does it matter?" She snaps, uncomfortable by the question she knew even she couldn't explain in words to form an answer.

"Freddie?" She whispers, feeling her heart soften and the annoyance lessen.

"When we were dating, you know how put my feelings out there was difficult?"

Freddie nods, looking at her sympathetically.

"That's how this feels, like i'm crazy, only when we dated you were there, assuring me that I wasn't. With this, I don't feel like anyone can do that, like I don't have the comfort."

"Sam, Carly and I care about you lots, you'll always have us for comfort, even if it doesn't always feel that way. There's always gonna be someone there."

"Freddie, we still care for each other a lot. But if this is a ploy to get me to go out with you again,"

"It's not, but i'm not content just being your friend. Really, I care about you like a brother, and I do really believe that opposites attract."

Sam sheepishly smiles before sudden impulse to lean over and kiss him surges over her. She leans in beginning to purse her lips out, and Freddie without thinking does the same, before both of them pause, nervously laughing as they shake their heads and move back.

"We'll think about this, seeing where trying to get along and solving our own problems takes us first before starting our relationship." Sam smiles.

"Deal," Freddie smiles, resting a comforting hand on her back.


	6. Chapter 6

_On the street corner of a busy Seattle intersection stands Carly, Sam and Freddie. Carly's dressed head to toe in her pink bunny suit, holding an Easter basket with toothbrushes each individually wrapped in their own plastic, and a tube of minty toothpaste still unopened inside. Carly sheepishly stood near the light post, waiting for an unsuspecting pedestrian that would get their mouth quickly cleansed, the toothbrush being manhandled by Carly's clumsy bunny hands._

 _Sam laughed as Freddie held up his camera, filming the small latino man get his teeth brushed, thumping his foot like a dog being scratched._

" _Seattle is filled with weirdos." Sam exclaims when the man is out of site._

" _Whatever, let's just go to another corner." Carly wearily grumbles._

" _Wait! You got to hop like a bunny across the street." Sam informs her._

" _Said who? The only thing weirder than this suit would be actually playing the part."_

" _C'mon, do it for the viewers." Sam begged._

 _Carly tucks her basket tightly in the crease of her forearm, holding it tight to her body as she began to hop out into the crosswalk, Freddie standing just a few feet behind her, still on the sidewalk, next to Sam. Carly hesitantly began to hop a few more feet, more than ready to just curl up on the road and dig a hole._

 _Cars and traffic slowed down thankfully, and Carly was almost nearing the end, a few feet away from hopping onto the rough sidewalk when out of nowhere the sound of squealing tires roared, and a taco truck took a slow and very sharp turn around the corner, now heading straight for Carly, and even in her bunny suit she remained in his blind spot, the large front end of the truck making it difficult to see her. Freddie lunges after her, ready to push her out of the way, but in the blink of an eye the truck disappears, and Carly's nowhere to be found._

 _Sam's panics as her heart begins to race and she looks to Freddie for reassurance that she was okay, but Freddie was gone too. Dead silence filled the air and Sam looked around her, confused to the rare emptiness of the Seattle intersection. She could only hear the echo of her own rapid breathing, before feeling herself back to the moment before it all happened, this time with the knowledge of it all about to happen._

" _Carls, wait!" Sam shouts, but Carly ignores her, hopping back out into the crosswalk._

 _The truck reappears and Sam instinctively lunges toward the intersection, holding out her arms to push Carly from the intersection but suddenly everything freezes before turning black._

Sam wakes up, her heart pounding in her ears as she feels her neck and spine tingle with cold sweats, her thoughts still distant as she scans the room and upon seeing Carly snuggled against her body pillow, Sam sighs relieved, and finds herself drawn to getting up, walking over and sliding under the covers next to Carly, so desperately hoping to feel the same comfort she felt when she was three, being snuggled tightly in her mother's bed.

"Sam?" Carly stirs from her sleep.

"Yeah?" Sam mumbles half asleep.

"Bad dream?" She asks.

"Bad dream." Sam informs her, rolling over to face away, unable to keep tears from streaming down her face.

 **-XXX-**

"Hey, how's Sam?" Spencer asks as Carly sleepily approaches the kitchen counter.

"Another rough night." She sleepily yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"What happened this time?"

"Another bad dream, but she wouldn't tell me what it was about. She just crawled in my bed at some point in the middle of the night and rolled under my covers next to me. It was so unlike her to be so… I don't like to say it but, needy."

"Carls, people with anxiety come off needy, but they really just want someone always there to assure them that everything is gonna be okay, and you can help them get what they need to feel better without them worrying that you're gonna get frustrated or annoyed, or even take off."

"Sam knows i'd never leave her. And I try and be very patient with her, never pushy." Carly defends herself.

"But don't you think that she's been burned before, and that's why she has trust issues? Everyone with Anxiety has a story, but everyone is too focused on asking ' _What's wrong with her?'_ rather than ' _What's happened to her?'._ You've barely scratched the surface of her entire story."

Carly sighs, dumping more milk than she had intended into her small bowl of cereal, drowning her Grape Nuts in a pool of soggy mush. She groans, dumping some of the milk down the drain, holding her hand and using it as a barrier to allow only the milk but not the cereal to flow out.

"What do you suggest I do to help her feel safe and open up?"

"Don't push her, she'll let you know when she's ready. But from now on, when she shows signs that she's really needing you, or even if you're unsure, reach out and asks what she needs to feel better, and after that see if she decides whether or not she wants to talk."

"Spencer, it's so hard knowing that even her best days aren't really that great." Carly leans into her brother, and her puts a gentle arm around her shoulder.

"She'll learn that it gets easier to cope with, but it doesn't just go away." Spencer informs her.

Carly trudges back up the stairs, bearing the load of her cereal bowl, Sam's eggs that Spencer had prepared, and two rim-full glasses of orange juice for Sam, and one half full glass of grape for herself. Carly thrusts her door open gently with the side of her hip, walking in backwards as the door opens and setting down the load on her dresser.

Sam wakes to the aroma of the sunny side up eggs, the kind in which Sam loved to pushed down on or poke her fork into, watching as the yellow substance leaked from her egg and formed a pool around her toast, the toast harvesting the juices and flavor.

"Morning Carls." Sam called casually.

Sam's hair sagged in a messy top bun, drooping as it hung to the side of which her hair was parted, and Sam's face was pale, her eyes wrinkly around the corners, tired tears forming in her exhausted creases around her face.

"Sam, are you okay?"

Carly was completely unaware that Sam had heard her coming, Sam making a leap from the bathroom in the bed, rolling back over and snuggling herself beneath the covers before Carly could discover her bouts of nausea that had overwhelmed her just minutes before. She had felt embarrassed and overwhelmed, feeling as if her anxiety would come off as ridiculous, and meaning absolutely nothing to Carly, telling her once again that she was normal.

"Just peachy." She smiles suspiciously, and Carly narrows her eyes.

Sam's body furiously shook, knowing that anxiety doesn't stop or even disguise itself from others, no matter how badly she didn't want Carly to discover that she was in the middle of a slight bout of anxiety, causing her to feel slightly nauseous. Her breathing quickened and she began to sound as if she had just ran a marathon, her eyes welling up and Sam shook her head, taking back what she had just said as she rocked back and forth in Carly's bed, unable to control the emotions she had tried so hard to mask.

"What do you need? What can I do so you don't feel like you need to hide this from me?" She whispers.

"Don't tell Freddie anything without me knowing anymore, and promise me you'll try to be patient." She grumbles through the tears, clearly embarrassed.

"Sam, he already knows, and he doesn't care about anything except you and your well being. Nothing's going to change how he feels about you as a person." Carly smiles, holding Sam in a hug as she rocks with her, trying to calm her overly-excited body.

"But I don't want him feeling as if he should feel bad for me, because I don't want his sympathy." She remarks annoyed and Carly laughs.

"That's understandable. We're here to help you feel better and understand you, not sit around listening just to accomplish nothing for you." Carly reassures her.

"Carls?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we try and give therapy another shot, but with you know, a different therapist that isn't all up in my business?"

"Sure, I'll find one that orders room service during their sessions." She teases.

"Thanks for not setting me up with some sleazy guy, like the one who worked out of his basement that my mom took me to when I was eight. Or the one I saw in the old parking garage of the factory in town." She informs her, shivering at the vivid memory and Carly laughs.


	7. Chapter 7

Carly and Sam devoured the kitchen space with all of their baking supplies, red velvet cake mix, oils, eggs, flours, everything anyone could possibly need or more, all sitting scattered messily around the counter tops and sink, and even some homemade butter cream frosting on the floor. Sam jokingly threw flour at Carly and she sighed in annoyance, trying to hurriedly get them ready.

"Sam, I have to be at Grand-dad's place by two o'clock." Carly anxiously nags her.

"Relax, we've got already a dozen made. How many can eight old men eat at once?" Sam reassures her and Carly frowns.

"More than you could believe." She warns her.

Sam sighed, secretly dreading Carly's disappearance for the weekend, knowing that her options of anyone to talk to would be limited, refusing to go back to therapy, but too uncomfortable yet to open up to Spencer despite their relationship growing one such as a brother and sister would have.

"Carls, is this really necessary? Can't they order cupcakes or something?" Sam whines.

"We see him like twice a year, and it's only for three days." Carly promises.

Sam groans as she tosses the muffin tin carelessly in the oven, adjusting the temperature to 425 degrees in hopes that they would bake faster. She then brushes off her pants, dusting the flour from her hands and sweeping her hair back off her shoulders, as she took the liberty of doing the dishes upon herself.

"You're doing the dishes?" Carly asks in surprise as she turns around.

"No, i'm just licking out the dishes and setting them in the sink. I turn around so you can't judge me."

"At least they're making it into the sink." Carly replies sarcastically, smirking as she turns her back to Sam.

Carly suddenly glances at her phone, groaning loudly as she tosses it down and runs to the living room to grab her coat. Without a word she throws it around her shoulders and zippers it, grabbing her purse before returning to grab her phone.

"Carly, what's wrong?" Sam asks upon noticing her eyes burning with tears.

"Don't worry about it, i'll be back by morning if all goes well." Carly informs her nervously, flying open the door before slamming it behind her.

Sam paces nervously back and forth, remembering the cupcakes in the oven and the mess in the kitchen, fearing the arrival of Spencer back home, anxious of how she would explain anything to him when she didn't know herself. And it was exactly those little things of having to explain things or being left alone, or even the arrival of anyone she knew made her nervous, worrying that she would fail at make small talk, or make or even feel uncomfortable around other people. Fears like those scared her most, the social side of her anxiety the side she hid the most from others, the constant fear of always feeling like others would be out to get her, or that she would have to keep up her 'bad girl' image.

Sam is startled from her thoughts from the loud and repetitive beeping of the smoking alarm, the sound filling the room as smoke floated to the ceiling, and Sam jumped in response, lunging for the flour on the counter before opening the oven. She tosses it into the oven, smothering the small flames that were burning off of the now charcoal cupcakes, and turned off the oven before tossing a moist towel over the pan.

Her heart raced as she collapsed against the kitchen island, breathing heavily as she looked around at the mess she had made. From that point she had felt frazzled as if she was useless on her own, feeling bad over the fact that she really couldn't help herself without Carly around to help.

"Sam?" A deep voice calls as Sam hears the footsteps move closer.

Sam slide her hand across her nose and her sleeve around her eyes, attempting to clean herself up before the embarrassment of having Freddie find her in her most vulnerable and weakest moment, blushing at the fact that she was upset over a few burnt cupcakes when she knew the bigger problem was her safety.

"Sam, we heard the alarm and I wanted to see if you were okay, but now it's obvious that you're not."

"Am so." She defends quietly.

"C'mon Sam, you're shaking and you look flushed." Freddie insists before offering his hand.

Sam gingerly accepts, allowing herself to be yanked up by Freddie's strong limbs and finds herself willingly his open embrace, finding her body had relaxed upon entering a comforting and familiar hold. She sighed, feeling that her limbs had gone limp, and her body felt warm and calm beneath his arms. As she brought herself the confidence to let go, the reassurance of Freddie's warm grasp hadn't left, and she longed for it again, the memory of his soft and loving touch feeling so familiar, so close, such a vivid memory being drawn back from the past.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay while Carly's gone?" Freddie asks unsurely.

"Why wouldn't I be? My mom never took care of me and I practically raised myself, so what difference does it make if Carly's around or not? Don't you think I know what it's like to be alone?" She brushes off his concern.

"Carly cares for you is the difference between her and your mom. Besides, you're not exactly capable on your own to be trusted, you have... tendencies." He infers.

"What tendencies?" She asks bluntly.

"Criminal ones?" Freddie adds and Sam offers a small laughs in agreeance.

Sam leans over and takes Freddie by surprise, resting her head calmly on his shoulder as her instinctively wraps his arm around her, as if nothing had changed, feeling as if they were the couple they once wanted or hoped to be, the one that despite their flaws, they saw each other for who they were, and Freddie knew deep inside that Sam was a rose in which he fell in love with her roots, her true self, looking past the 'thorns' to see the true beauty.

"I've never stopped loving you." Freddie murmurs to himself.

"What?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking up towards him as she lifted her head slightly from his shoulder.

"If two people can see each other past their flaws, and it's opposites that really attract, then we should be together. We should be in love because our mistakes make us different, and that's what we have in common, we're both perfectly flawed."

"Well, neither of us are gonna change anytime soon."

"So what are we waiting for? Neither of us are ever gonna be perfect; You're not gonna be more normal, I'm not gonna become less normal, but it's our differences that bring out the best of us, and we have to learn to work around them."

Sam nervously shuffles her left foot back and forth in front of her, kicking it as she slide it along the floor, exhaling deeply as she thought over everything and wondered if she felt safe, afraid of being burned once again.

"Do you really mean that?" Sam whispers.

"What? That I never stopped loving you?" He smiles.

"Well...How do you feel?" She asks sheepishly.

Freddie smiles at her before turning his body, holding his arm around her waist and leaning in, pulling her head towards him before touching his lips to hers, the velvet touch feeling familiar and safe, as if nothing ever changed. As he looked back at her, her eyes lit up, looking the most calm they had in months, her face glowing and the tension in her body leaving all at once as she struggled to think of anything to say, and rather leaned back into him, feeling the comfort of home.

 **-XXX-**

 _May 15: Day (Forget it, I stopped writing it after day four)_

 _It's becoming more apparent that I'm not as much of my mother as I thought I was. For example, i've never had and will never intend to beat the record number of boyfriends my mother's either used for financial help or free doctor visits or whatever, or that have left her after stealing our things, that really aren't even that worthy of stealing in the first place but do it because they wanted the sting to make an impression on my mom._

 _With Freddie, it's safe and familiar, but it's not the only reason i'm going back. He has showed me that despite my flaws, to love who I am because it's what makes up my "you-ness" and told me that it's my roots he fell in love with, the part of the rose that usually is hidden, the parts that you can't see until you start digging up some of the dirt. He even explained that he once read a quote on splash face:_

" _If you spend all your time looking for the perfect person, you'll miss the imperfect person who could be imperfectly perfect for making you happy."_

 _I'll admit that I laughed at him at first before soaking in the meaning of what he was trying to say. But of course my face would be floating in a bathtub full of diet soda before i'd admit that he was ever right. But the truth was, I'm afraid: You can't plan for the future, you can't fix what's been burned, and I'm afraid of taking the risk of it happening again. I'm afraid to leave from what's familiar and safe, what 'smells' like home. And with Carly and Freddie, I've finally found a safe and familiar place, a comfort zone in which I couldn't dream of setting foot out of…_

"Sam?" Carly calls, startling Sam enough to send her pen into flight from her hand, hitting the floor as it rolled of the bed.

"Yeah… What?!" She asks in surprise, clearly and suspiciously startled from her deep thoughts.

"I'm finally home and come into my room to find you in my bed, and all you have to say for yourself is 'yeah...what?" Carly asks in amusement, tossing her purse and small duffle bag onto her sofa bed.

"Sorry! Surprise, you're home!" Sam says, faking her enthusiasm and Carly laughs.

"Next time don't break the lock on the front door, and re-hide the key!" Carly nudges her jokingly.

Carly plops on the bed next to Sam, peering over her shoulder before Sam quickly snaps her journal shut, tossing it to the side and it falls between the back of Carly's headboard and the mattress. Sam fakes a big toothy smiles at Carly, trying to hide the flustered look from her face.

"Okay…" Carly lets it go, preparing for the next new news she was going to share.

"How did everything go with grand-dad?" Sam changes the subject quickly.

"He had an asthma attack that nearly killed him." She sighs, feeling a fearful lump form in her throat.

Sam leans for Carly, wrapping her arms around Carly's shoulders, comforting the brunette the best she could before Carly wipes her face, sitting to face Sam, smiling with good news to share.

"I've been calling around, and I think I might have found you someone you like, someone just like Mrs. MacSweeney." Carly excitedly informs her.

"I'm seriously doubting that. Look, I love you, but i've changed my mind."

"Sam, Mrs. MacSweeney can help you somewhat, but her diploma is only basic and she can't offer you the same professional help and medicines a psychologist or psychiatrist can, nor can Freddie or myself." Carly reminds her.

"All i'm looking for is comfort, not for life advice and skills to develop. So if some paid professional can give me half as good of advice as Mrs. MacSweeney, then I don't want to waste the time. I want someone passionate about their job because they want to help others, not make money for something they don't truly care about."

Sam angrily rolls off the bed, her sudden frustration confusing Carly, just days before remembering that Sam had been willing and open to looking for help, now shutting down the idea, anxious about the entire idea of receiving help.

"Sam?" Carly calls after her.

"Look, Freddie was right; You really just need someone who understands you and your mistakes, and that is willing to stay by your side, looking past your flaws into who you really are and what you really need to grow as a person."

"He said that?"

"Yes, and then we kissed." She adds before sighing and turning around, heading back to sit on the bed.

Carly scoots over, making room for Sam in order to put her arm around her, rubbing comforting circles around her back as Sam shook from beneath her. Carly looked firmly into Sam's reddened face, hoping for further explanation, but not to push her so far out of her comfort zone that Sam would completely shut down.

"Sam, what can we do to help you feel… better, at the very least?"

"Don't force me to go to therapy." She suggests quietly.

"Anything else? What's the smallest gesture we can do to help you?"

Sam sticks her tongue out as she ponders the brunette's kind gesture, truly thinking of any way that she or Freddie could help her. She finally regains eye contact with her, smiling gently before seriously glaring at her.

"Be ready to talk on my terms, when I'm ready to explain what's wrong. Not forcing me to talk when sometimes I'm not even sure what's wrong. Give me space and time and be ready when I am."

"So in other words, flexibility?" She confirms before hugging Sam.

The two girls smile, Sam feeling tension leave her body with the comfort of knowing that her friend was willing to help her on more mutual terms, overcome her anxiety at a pace that wouldn't overwhelm her.

"So, you and Freddie? What do I need to know?" Carly jokingly nudges her.

"When I'm ready, Shay." Sam smirks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** This chapter was exceptionally difficult for me to write, written on the most personal and deep level I have touched yet with this story. Up until now, none of these things in the story have been easy to come to terms with, let alone talk about or even write about. But channeling my feelings through a character in whom I can relate to on some levels makes it all the more easy to be able to open it without and reveal who I am through the stories and how I feel without ever having to expose myself. This story has encouraged me to reach out of my comfort zone and reach things I didn't know were possible. I'm thankful to everyone who has read my compilation of mini stories in this one big one, and am comforted to know that there are other's out there who can relate. With anxiety, truly all we want to hear are the beautiful words, "what do you need to help you?" being said with sincerity, and being shown that they're are people out there to talk to! Please find that buddy or adult you trust, PM me, anything, but please know that you are NOT alone in this world! God Bless and thanks for reading!

 **-XXX-**

Carly busily roamed around her room, shaking out Sam's dusty clothing from the floor in front of Carly's coffee table and couch which she had in the last few weeks made her home. She never was bothered by the fact that it looked like she caused Carly's room to look as if a tornado swept through it, and she often tripped in the dark on her way to the bathroom at night, falling with her arms out to catch herself on top of her dirty clothes pile scattered on the ground before her.

Carly stirred restlessly at night, basking in the stench she could no longer take there, losing her patience with Sam's lazy and filthy habits, and today was the day that Carly would take the initiative to do it herself, no longer being able to stand living in a pigsty.

As she bends down, she wraps her arms snuggly around her clothes and lifts them, catching clothes falling from her arms onto her feet as she turns her head to the side, exhaling only through her nose in disbelief that Sam or more specifically her clothes, could emit such an odor. She carelessly tosses it into the laundry basket in her closet, sliding the door closed with her foot.

She hesitantly lifts Sam's pillow from the couch, sliding the dirty and greasy case from it and tossing it to the side before lifting the pillow, expecting to find dried rib bones, and a stain from her red sauce ruining the snowy wide fabric of it. But what Carly found rather horrified her. Beneath the pillow and squeezed between the cushions on the back of the couch, a small bag with light blonde hairs all bundles into a dust bunny like ball lay crumpled inside.

"What the jack?!" Carly exclaims, looking around to see if Sam had returned, and when the coast was clear, she rearranged Sam's bed and took the bag with her, stuffing it secretly under her pillow for later inspection and questioning. Despite Sam's pleas for Carly not to intervene, Carly had to show a therapist.

' _Again, maybe I shouldn't...'_ Carly decides, realizing the embarrassment it could induce.

Carly takes the bag back out for further inspection, sliding her laptop open and searching every possible phrase she could to find somewhat of an answer that matched Sam's peculiar new obsession.

' _Why do I pull my hair when i'm bored?'_ She types from the viewpoint of Sam, beginning to scroll through the search page.

"Nothing…" She sighs exasperated, backspacing to clear the search.

Carly clicks her tongue, thinking of what to type as she restlessly taps her fingers on the keys, lightly enough so not to make random letter appear in the search.

' _Rubbing pulled hair from my scalp on my lips…'_ She tries again, only to fail.

' _Hair pulling habits/disorders.'_ She types confidently before becoming pleased with some of the results.

"Overcoming Trichotillo-wait, what?" Carly reads aloud before clicking.

' _Trichotillomania, (Trick-o-Tillo-Mania) is a compulsive cognitive behavior disorder of pulling one's hair out, including from the scalp, arms, legs, and other areas in which hair may grow. Individuals tend to inspect the hair or search for the "Perfect" hair to pull, and may feel relief from pulling the hair. They may also rub the hair on their lips, taste the hair, look for and pull the cuticles, and potentially eat the hair, causing possible gastrointestinal discomfort…'_

"...Caused or usually triggered by anxiety." Carly finishes reading aloud, feeling guilty for her lack of understanding.

"Carly?" Freddie knocks on her door, startling her from her research.

"Nothing!" She calls suspiciously, earning a curious look from the eager brown haired boy, coming to check on her before the show.

Freddie smirks with suspicion, smiling at Carly with amusement as he sat next to her on her bed, sliding her laptop to his lap, and opening it back up.

"What is that?!" He exclaims in horror of the images that appear.

"I'm doing this for Sam and I knew that's how you'd react so of course I didn't want you to know." She sighs.

"What do balding people have to do with anything?"

"It's called Trichotillo-something. It's where people have the compulsion to pull out their hair."

"Why would she, let alone anyone want to do that? Wouldn't it hurt?"

"It says here that individuals don't feel pain because they're used to the feeling. She apparently likes how it feels or something. She's not addicted to the just the satisfaction she receives, but the feeling of a certain texture. She pulls the ones she deems 'imperfect.'." Carly informs him, scrolling through the page.

"But what's gonna happen when it goes too far?" Freddie asks in disbelief of such a habit.

"I'm sure she feels guilt and shame over it, that's why it's important that we don't point it out aloud or scold her, just give her gentle reminders not to pull. Give her something to keep her hands busy. We don't want to embarrass her, we want her to open up."

"Not a word to her?" Freddie reassures.

"Not a word. She needs encouragement, not discouragement." She exclaims a little too harshly.

Carly tosses the bag of hair back under the pillow as to make it appear undisturbed, fear of how Sam would feel if she knew that it had been tampered with. It hurt Carly to see how much she had actually lost, but it killed her knowing that Sam was fighting this alone, too embarrassed or ashamed to even mention it, and everything clicked as Carly soon realized that Sam's ponytails and buns weren't results of her being too lazy to comb it, but a weak attempt to hide her balding spots.

 **-XXX-**

"Sam, what happened?" Carly exclaims as she flies through Principal Franklin's office door, a look of concern on her face.

"Sam," He turns to her, "Do you care to explain why you're face looks like that?"

"I'd rather not." Sam cowers bitterly, avoiding eye contact with an overly concerned Carly.

Principal Franklin impatiently taps her fingers along the edge of the desk, stirring the pencils in his cup holder with his other hand until Sam snaps, sideswiping with the back of her left hand and watching as the gray-glittery, hand-made cup flew off the desk and hit the floor, bouncing once before rolling around on the floor, making Sam thankful that it was only plastic.

"Well?" Carly snaps, losing patience.

"I'm not sharing what happened with either of you." Sam responds defiantly.

"Sam, please don't make this difficult. It's here, or at the Dr. Meyer's." Carly insists with warning.

Sam blows air into her cheeks, pressing her palms against them and pushing the air out, swinging her feet back and forth, watching as they swept the ground, dust bunnies and old scraps clinging to the bottom of her sneaker. She reaches her hand down, brushing off the dust, and continues sweeping her feet as she reaches over, and pumps some sanitizer onto her hands.

"Thanks Ted." Sam mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

"Sam, we're going to get to the bottom of this! What if we talk to Mrs. MacSweeney? You can go alone and she could relay the message to Principal Franklin, and at least you'll be in less trouble if you did something. And no one will overhear." Carly persistently pleads, reaching over to place her hands on Sam's folded arms.

With hesitation but no argument, Sam groans and hops to her feet, shuffling out the door with Carly behind her, flinging Sam's abandoned backpack over her shoulder, and followed her down the hall to Mrs. MacSweeney, excited to see her office for the first time.

"Wait here," Sam shoves her phone toward Carly, her clammy hands reaching for the handle outside of the Library door.

Carly watches without an argument, as Sam nervously looks around the library, watching her every move through the glass window before sighing, and going inside to take a seat in one of the cushioned seats, scrolling through her phone as she listens to the office door close, and the blinds snap shut, and only seeing the shadow of Sam moving around made Carly curious enough to want to go over and knock.

"Hey Sam! What's up? It definitely has been feeling lonely around here since you haven't visited in awhile!" Mrs. MacSweeney glances over the top of her computer before sliding her chair to her desk, getting a better and more full view of the blonde.

Sam bursts into tears, suddenly feeling her body quiver out of control as she struggles to find any of the words that could possibly and appropriately describe how she was feeling in that moment. She had felt as if her whole body had just shut down, her brain turned off the the outside world, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. MacSweeney was watching her inquisitively, concern painted on her face.

"Sam, I'm not able to read your mind. Can you try and tell me what's wrong, or would you rather write it out?" She coaxes her gently, waiting patiently for a response.

"I'd rather slam my tongue in a car door than be humiliated any further." Sam snaps, mutter her bitter words through the tears.

Mrs. MacSweeney slides out her chair, walking around her desk to occupy the seat next to Sam's, on the opposite side of the wooden toy table taking up empty corner in the room. It was then, when she tucked her right leg under her left, her dangling legs boot heel brushing against the carpet, that Sam had a true indication of how short Mrs. M was. Sam looked at her with sudden curiosity, wondering how anyone could possibly be so calm and patient, so helpful without being pushy or annoying. Sam felt in her place in this old, nearly windowless, white bricked office, comforted by the young and gentle face, her dark brown hair tied into a bun resembling an unleavened piece of bread, and her big, bold, brown eyes that looked intently at her.

"Sam?" She tries again, almost in a whisper.

"This! This stupid strand of hair started it all, tempting me with it's coarse and wavy texture, calling me just to pull it and rub it on my lips!" Sam exclaims furiously, picking a hair from her head and eying it so intensely that she nearly goes cross-eyed.

"What about pulling your hair makes you the most angry?"

"The fact that I can't control the impulses, and it makes me look like some freak when I'm rubbing it across my lips, zoning out as i'm doing it, and nearly startled when anyone catches me! And they aren't quite all that nice about it either."

Sam's entire body shakes in fury, as she gasps back her tears, trying to calm herself down. Mrs. MacSweeney grabs a tissue from her desk, handing it to Sam who snatches it from her fingers, blowing her nose dramatically into it.

"Sam, when you cry or retaliate, you're showing you're bullies that's they're getting to you, and that's exactly what they want."

"This isn't about the bully; Not only, at least." She whispers the last part, feeling as if part of her was broken.

 _Courage Sam, have courage; That's the only way this can ever get better. Have courage and trust in the lord._

Sam heard her mother's voice in her head, remembering of the second time she heard that as a child, the same day they had walked out of church hand in hand, her bible tucked under her mama's arm, and Sam distinctly remembers the warm spring breeze blowing back her frizzy and untamed blonde, curly hair. Her mother pushed it back and smiled back at her, her mother's resembling and uncanny blues sinking deeply into despair as she prepared her child for the worst.

" _Sammy, you're only broken if you say you are, but it's never really true. If you choose to fight this battle we call life head first, nothing can break you. It's you that gives up on you before anyone truly else does. God will never leave or forsake us."_

"You can fight a battle that's not worth fighting for a long time, and mentally you're stronger than you think. Your body is the one that gets physically tired before your mind does, so keep telling yourself to never give up. We all fight battles that aren't worth fighting, but in the end make us stronger. " Sam repeats her mother's words, drawing a curious look from Mrs. M.

"That's very wise, you know that?" Mrs. MacSweeney smiled.

"My mother's seen her good days before she hopped in the looney bin." Sam offers a small laugh, darting her eyes away from sight, staring blankly at the floor, her mouth never moving.

"I'm sorry you're going through this Samantha." Mrs. M offers, Sam feeling her words as a you would a warm hug, comforting and meaningful, all sincerity in her voice.

"My mother told me if God brings you to it, he'll bring you through it." Sam remembers aloud, and Mrs. MacSweeney nods, smiling as she reaches over set a caring hand on hers.

"We'll work through this, but nothing will change with the wrong attitude. Please promise me that you'll slap no-one with a piece of pizza you found on the floor again?" She teases and Sam sheepishly laughs.

"No promises." She teases back.


	9. Chapter 9

Mr. Henning points to the board, declaring his love for 'Green Week' which was still three months away, but had pre planned their lesson so that it would become a quarter project worth a semester grade. Carly looked to Sam, her chin resting in her hand as she sighed, picking at the ends of her hair and weaving them between her fingers and was at least satisfied that Sam had made it to class after skipping to go to Mrs. MacSweeney's the past three days. As she mindlessly played with her ends, ignoring the lecture, Carly could barely contain her excitement, ready to burst at any moment but knowing that Sam may very well shut down her excitement with one simple reply: _No._ But Carly was willing to try and waited until they were dismissed for work time, Mr. Henning allowing the last few minutes of class to be used for productive research.

"Sam? We need to talk; But please know that you're not in trouble." Carly called, assuring her as she was waiting for Sam to look up.

Sam gathered her books, turning to face Carly before sliding them over, pawning them off to Carly to house in her locker for the rest of the semester even though she had just received them from her previous two classes. She didn't make eye contact but Carly could tell from the way her eyes darted Carly's, she didn't want to make any conversation.

"If this is about still talking to anyone such as Dr. Meyer, I'm not interested." She replied bluntly, her voice dry and firm, still never making eye contact as she traces her finger along the edge of the lab table.

"Sam, is there something you're specifically hiding from me that you don't want me to know?" Carly prys, scooting her stool closer to Sam.

"If I am hiding something I wouldn't tell you that i'm hiding something because then you'd want to know what it is. No matter how I answer this, you're gonna think i'm hiding something from you so….no!"

Carly blew air from her cheeks, contemplating whether or not she should really push Sam today or even lately. As she became more and more distant, Carly found that Sam really wasn't showing up to many classes, not that she had often attended most of them before, but when she started missing out on foods class and even parenting (Which she showed unusual interest in) Carly began scouting ways to help Sam by getting to know what was going on deep inside.

"There's nothing you want to tell me? Because lately i've been noticing behavior that is not 'typical' Sam Puckett behavior."

"And what's that?" She replied with amusement.

"You've been sheltering yourself from otherwise normal situations that you would put yourself into, like when someone in the hallway calls you a name, or Gibby even, you don't beat them up. It's like you're afraid."

"Am not." She sulks, brushing it off quietly before picking her book up and dropping it on the floor to create a cringe-worthy distraction.

Sam had not liked attention to be drawn to her lately, but when it came to Carly interrogating her on her behavior she felt was otherwise normal for herself, she created the sly technique to slide out of class before anyone saw where the _thud_ had come from, and Sam's small figure squeezing between the semi-closed door and wooden frame.

She brushes past the girls in the bathroom, scaring the young freshman who had heard enough about her to leave the room as she slammed the stall door and threw her head back with frustration, pressing her palms to her face as hot tears dripped down her red cheeks. She paced around the small square footage and spun in circles, the old, crusted yellow tiles on the walls blurring as her eyes filled and she dropped to her knees, feeling as if she had hit rock bottom, the lowest point Mrs. MacSweeney had mentioned many times about reaching, and she instantly knew she hit it, and that maybe if she came to terms to talk about it, it would slowly get better.

Sam scoots her back against the door, ringing a section of her hair around her index finger, looking at the ends before raising her hand to her head, first scratching around the top, then using her index and middle finger to pluck the one that she had deemed 'Perfectly Imperfect'. It was at first one, then two, and before she knew it she had a fist full of hair glaring back at her, unsure on how she had managed to collect such a thick layer, swearing she could knit her mom a sweater from what she had collected from that one small session.

" _Sammy, I feel like I'm staring at one of my wigs! Why would you do something so disgusting?"_ Her mother reprimanded her one morning when she had walked into the living room, her mother sitting with a ball of hair beside her that had tangled between her toes just from shuffling across the carpet.

She had known from that day that she couldn't live with her mother or her cheap yet completely emotionally piercing insults. So she had slid the biggest duffle bag she could find, smelling of 'who-knows-what' her last boyfriend had in there, and dumped almost an entire dresser drawer and a half into it, sitting on it in order for her to zip it all the way shut.

So later that night she would steal whatever money she could scrounge up from the couch, beneath her mom's bed, and even in the old tin jar in the medicine cabinet, to use for a bus ticket just for a quick three minute ride to Carly's before the system shut down for the night at ten. She had known that it would look suspicious if she decided to walk, carrying a duffle bag which looked strangely identical to a body bag (which she had just made a connection that the bag she was carrying her mom had received was from the police officer she dated for two hours), and once arriving, she would remove the spare key and make a quiet entrance into the Shay's apartment.

Sam suddenly was startled from the loud creaking coming from the bathroom stall doors, someone deliberately pushing them open, probably a senior trying to startle the young freshman with the never ending stale jokes. But as soon as she heard the voice, she knew she should give up.

"Sam? Why aren't you in class?" Carly called though she already knew the obvious answer.

Sam's body shook as she rocked back and forth, feeling her back slide across the stall door and brushing the plastic, the fabric on her tank top creating a _whooshing_ like sound.

"Sam, I can smell that you're in here; You're the only one I know who'd eat jambalaya they prepared in their locker in the bathroom." Carly notes with amusement.

She pushes the yellow stall door farthest from the entrance, finding Sam with tears illuminating her blue eyes in the dim stall light. Carly sits next to Sam, first giving her a side hug, then firmly looking her in the eyes.

"Sam, I know you're hurting and you need to take your time to heal, but you also can't let this cloud up your whole life."

"Carls, i'm…"

"No, nuh-uh. I'm gonna be tough on your for a second Sam, and don't think i'm being bitter or don't understand or care. I'm telling this to you straight because I want the best for you."

Sam narrows her eyes, glancing at the ugly yellow tile floor, the spaces between each individual square grimy and brown, perfectly reflecting the true old age of that 1950's interior.

"You need to kick it into gear young lady," She begins to reprimand Sam, Sam looking appalled at her as her voice became firm like a mother's, "I want what's best for you and you're never gonna get there if you sit and think on all that's wrong and letting that control you and your focus on school work."

"Carls, it's hard." She whimpers.

"And I know that. But that's why we have psychologists and counselors to help you, as well as myself. And there's only so much I can do for you before we realize that a therapist stepping in may be helpful. Sam, I'll help you to the best I can, be a best friend to talk to and to listen and support you, but I can't offer the help Dr. Meyer can."

"I'm not seeing him again." She grumbles under her breath.

"That's up to you to seek help; I'm only suggesting it but I can't make you go. But as your best friend, I truly think it's best and I want to see you being 'you' again."

Sam raises her eyebrows at Carly, glaring her up and down and Carly laughs, realizing that Sam's life wasn't perfect but Sam just being herself would be. Carly hugs Sam sideways again and Sam rests her head on Carly's shoulder, her breathing shallow.

"So, you know Pete?"

"The boy I had a crush on and went completely girly for just for you to be wrong all along?" Sam answers sarcastically, "Nope, remind me again of him." She smirked.

"A little birdy told me that he wants to ask you to prom!" She exclaims, anticipating Sam to do the Sam.

Sam blankly stares at Carly before shaking her head in disbelief, calmly reaching into her backpack and grabbing an empty water bottle and Carly only could guess what Sam would do next. Her reaction was how she pictured the girl had recently became an introverted extrovert, her behavior now an unexpected and spur of the moment surprise.

Sam dips her water bottle in the toilet, calmly shaking off the droplets and handing it to her stunned friend before lifting a single backpack strap over her shoulder and pulling the stall door open, leaving Carly confused and appalled simultaneously.

 **-XXX-**

The gym was large despite feeling stretched to its limits with students, and Sam could swear every square inch of it was full. It felt loud and overwhelming, a student on every side of her being, squished between Carly and some boy on her left, wiping his grimy hands across his nose as he sniffles, Sam wishing that she could move even a centimeter to the left without crowding Carly next to her.

Though it was loud, the noise still felt distant as Sam studied the students around her, not realizing how many people there really was until they all piled in the gym. She felt panic bubble up into her, feeling as if her heart dropped into her stomach and her breathing became quick and deep, feeling tears sting behind her eyes.

" _Too many people…"_ Sam thought as she crossed her arms over her stomach and began to rock, feeling slightly dizzy from the overwhelming amount of people surrounding her.

As a dam with tension of the rushing waters building behind it would eventually break under pressure, Sam would feel flooded in relief that crying would give her, burying her head in her lap a comfort to keep others from seeing what she felt was her weak side and alternate persona. She suddenly felt a hand on her back, warm and comforting at the same time her heart skipped and began to beat faster, realizing she was still in a gym full of people, despite feeling lost and distant just seconds before.

"Sam, i'm not quite sure if you're overwhelmed or anxious, but we could talk about it." She offers quietly in Sam's ear, rubbing her back and waiting for her to lift her face out of her lap.

"You can't help." She mumbles, her face sore from crying and her attitude bitter from the frustration of not having control over the situation and tears.

Carly rests her left hand on Sam's back, and her right over the top of Sam's hand, buried beneath her face. Sam lifts her head and sniffles, wiping her sleeve across her face. She slowly rises from the wooden bleaches leaving her butt sore and back stiff, and Carly helps her through the three rows below her, slyly sneaking through the back exit behind the bleachers to Sam's relief.

"Carly, I don't know why…" She begins in between sobs, struggling to regain her confidence.

"And you don't need a reason, which is the funny thing with anxiety. It's like a wolf in sheep's clothing. You can't always predict what might set it off, but you're able to recognize it in disguise. It preys on you and you can't let it get into the "hen house"."

Sam leans against the gray brick wall behind her, sliding her back down it and sitting on her bottom, pulling her knees to her chest and Carly sits beside her.

"You don't have to be ashamed of your emotions. And never be hesitant to ask for help. We care about you and want what's best." Carly consoles her, one arm around her shoulder and the other patting her knee.

Freddie walks out of the gym, looking with concern to her friends, and sits beside Sam, slipping his hand in her and interlocking their fingers, feeling Sam's shoulders relax and she laid her head on him. Carly looked with amusement to the two friends, like cat and dog, peacefully sitting there, content in silence as her breathing begins to slow.

"I'm proud of you Samantha," Freddie smiles without looking to her.

She looks to him in confusion, mumbling ' _why',_ in disbelief while simultaneously wondering why he hadn't chosen to give up on her yet.

"You're one tough egg to crack. Everyday you come to school despite what your night was like and not knowing how your day will go. You choose to come to school instead of letting anxiety chose for you."


End file.
